Mannie Poems - Poems about Mannie

Happy birthday to all Scorpios. It is our season, I hope the transformation has been fruitful. I recently came out of a toxic relationship and I wrote this on this on the 28th of October 2020. Everything in my life is rapidly happening exactly how I manifested it. Truthfully speaking, I am peaceful, in love,...

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A fertile submission in a dark nest and yet it is believed that beings must be next to each other to touch. In my hive, he prayed for my nectar. With a steady hum buzzing through the forest. I stuck out my tongue, angry that the poems I imagined on his neck could never be written. The trees talked, Screamed when he...

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I wrote this 2019 in the studio. I wrote this feeling the sense awareness that people around me were always attached to something and this is how the words came out. I really do hope in the future I will have these recorded into a project that connects with you. ____________________________ I remember once walked into a room Have...

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Walk over the open desert. I still remember the clouds, the symbols. How they rest in their high romance living to teach the truth until it sinks into a beautiful nothingness. Pure minds sustain universes. The spirit is aesthetic. No less but more is enough but imagine it distinct from being. To be a phase in question and reason to an end. Trusting a change,...

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(Dawn Chorus) It was in Africa that I learned to sing my love the loudest and in the dawn of the Chorus, Black love communicates acoustically. Even if the day breaks, it serenades all territories. Feathered friends in the neighborhood can only be heard by planting a tree. He nests on my spots. Black leaves harvest seeds and rustling branches have a deep aesthetic. Rootly singing... Sometimes melancholic with...

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20 October 2020 Leaves that rise better than roots make no sound when they fall. Once, Earth was created for my karma to heal yet in this silence of waiting rooms, the sun rises inside my temple. I am a molecule away from an unfinished symphony that keeps impersonating my frustration because my energy cannot hear itself think like swallowing set symbols of lungs on dehydrated pages...

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There is a water shortage. A problem the moon shines to introspect its tides and how they can become still with or without the clouds. I forgive the engineered outrage. Attracting everything but rhythm because to flow is to sleep next to a hut thatched with growth. While the children in the village no longer need to chew corn or drain milk from cows for nature...

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Limerick : Once a Nanny looked for a Manny/Mannie Once a Nanny looked for a Manny And found the father of her Kiddie Poor Cuckold gave assent With his Girlie’s consent Now all five live in One Bliss House free. © T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013...

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